𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 - 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚘

1815, London, England

'As another season rolls forth, one must only wonder if the second born Bridgerton son has any plans at all to marry. Gossip surrounds his alone time, and his focus is solely on art rather than any ladies, oh how that must sadden some London ladies.

Though the depression has only lasted a while, for the ton has set their sights on a new visiting arrival in our bustling city. A Swedish Duchess, indeed, why bide her time here? Why to steal the eyes of every eligible bachelor around, those disastrous debutantes are doomed.'

"A Swedish Duchess?" Hyacinth exclaimed, rather loudly in her elder sister's ear, Eloise squirmed away before raising a cautious hand to her ear, the latest Whistledown paper stayed close to her chest.

"You don't have to shout my ear off, I can hear you perfectly normally, and why are you questioning me?" Eloise asked, Hyacinth shrugged, before running away from the room, speaking loudly and highly of the famed Duchess she knew not even the name of.

"What's this I hear of a Duchess?" Benedict asks, he walks steadily, an apple held tightly in the palm of his hand. He addresses Eloise with his bitten apple and she rolls her eyes. She throws the latest Whistledown on the table infront of her and lowers her put up legs from it.

"Some Swedish one is coming for the season, all the eligibles will be fawning over her, no? You're free to the Whistledown piece, I have to go visit Pen!" Eloise announces as she leaves the room, Benedict eyes the paper, watches Eloise completely leave his sight before grabbing energetically at the Whistledown piece and basically tearing it open to read what the lady has to say of the Swede.

-

Florence was tired. She had been on a cramped ship for far too long, her cat had curled up on her lap when she needed to relieve herself, and she still hadn't moved and it was time for the ship to finally dock.

The ship crashed aggressively into the docking space, sending a small wave of water to flood the already rotting wood. She had started to miss Sweden earlier than she had participated. Her mother had insisted of her loyal maid, Erika, to accompany her on the trip - and it wasn't that Florence didn't appreciate or didn't like Erika but that she was of little class so her languages were limited.

She could only speak Swedish, in England. Which means she would often have to be abandoned by her dearest friend because of language barriers.

They were one of the first to be hurried into the exits, even though the temperature was supposed to have rised in England, the bitter wind mixed in with the beaming sunlight hit Florence in the face.

"Jag saknar Sverige, England ser så tråkigt ut!"
(I miss Sweden, England looks so boring) Erika whispers, more to Florence than just herself. Florence laughed, the laugh she and Erika were both prone to, even though she was getting off a ship she threw her head back and laughed, Erika smiled.

"Jag vet, vad hette damen nu igen?" (What was the lady's name again?) Florence inquires, Erika seems to fiddle with some paper whilst her hands desperately clings to some valises. Florence tries to easen them from her grasp and offer her help but Erika smacks her hand away.

"Lady Aspley," Erika speaks, her accent is thick as she attempts the name in English but Florence applauds her attempt. As soon as her feet make contact with the natural path and not wooden docking, she is held in an embrace. The smell of old violet flowers invade her senses, the woman holding on to her is one of middle age, resembling her mothers own looks as time passed her, but this woman looked more calm, less stressed obviously, she was dressed in an elegant blue dress, and her hair down.

"I'm Lady Aspley, you must be Florence, I had assumed from all the Swedish words you and your maid were conversing in!"

"I think you would do well not to refer to my friend as a maid, yes that is her job but she means much more to me than anyone else does." Florence speaks, she makes sure not to let anymore fury to leak out into her words. That's one of the things she dislikes most about people, they assume they know everything about Erika though they truly know nothing at all, Erika was her friend, she'd be damned if she let anyone forget.

"I'm sorry ma'am." Aspley offers to Erika, Erika gives her a glance up and down before turning to Florence in confusion.

"She only speaks Swedish." Florence quips back, her hand slips to find Erika's before flicking at her thumb to take her own valise from her, Erika tries to protest but Aspley is already waiting for them to move on further. Its clear she didn't expect such a welcoming from Florence.

"Jag gillar inte henne!" (I do not like her) Erika protests, and Florence grins.

"Vem skulle?" (Who would?) Florence responds, Erika smiles and laughs and earns a glare from the Aspley lady and Erika stares back, the valises are burning a dent into her skin but she continues on.

"That is a tik." (bitch)  Erika states, matter of factly. The three had begun walking back to whether their accommodation would be, Aspley was a good few paces infront of them but as the Swedish insult left Erika's mouth, Florence figured out that the lady knew some Swedish because she turned around, anger folding her eyebrows irritably.

This would be a long stay.